


The Ache For Home

by LaundryBasket (LaundryBasket____LuLuGal)



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bat Family, De-Aged, De-Aged Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dimension Travel, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama, Gen, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt/Comfort, Lost Years, Three Years Later, Traumatized Dick Grayson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:02:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27110899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaundryBasket____LuLuGal/pseuds/LaundryBasket
Summary: Three years ago Dick Grayson went missing. Suddenly reappearing out of nowhere he comes knocking on the manors doors, except he’s lost more than just three years. Somehow being de-aged Dick is now 13 with no memories of his previous adult life but has plenty of new memories from the traumatizing months he spent in a game of survival.Bat family activated as they try to bring back the Dick Grayson they all love and miss.
Comments: 20
Kudos: 220





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Bear with me, this idea came to me in a dream and I just had to get it out! I hope you enjoy! Confusion will clear up as the chapters go on. :) Let me know what you think! And as always comments make my heart soar and kudos bring a smile! Thank you for your support!

He’s home.

From the front door to the spotless windows down to the trees protecting the manor, it’s all just like he remembered. It’s a clean safe haven and he feels like filth, unworthy of standing on the pristine grounds.

The white snow littering the path reminds Dick just how long it’s been. He works at his wrist and tugs at the stolen jacket two sizes too big. The moments pass by and time is non existent as he stands there willing his body to make a move. Somehow it’s enough to bring himself to the door with a hand hovering over the bell.

It’s been three years. Three long and agonizing years. Will Bruce want him anymore for the animal he’s become? Will he be kicked back on the streets?

The ground shifts momentarily and his head feels as if it’s filled with air. He’s isn't exactly sure when the last time he ate was or slept for that matter and no, bouts of falling unconscious don’t exactly count. His vision is wavering on the edge of giving out so it’s now or never. He rings the taunting bell.

The seconds to wait are agonizing but when the door finally opens Dick wishes he had even more time to prepare for the sight in front of him. Standing clad in his usual suit, black bow tie and all, is Alfred. It’s something Dick has imagined countless times but never actually believed he would be lucky enough to see again.

The image itself is enough to sucker punch Dick, taking the breath right out of him. The old mans face is written with confusion and Dick can’t decide if it’s because his body has become so mangled and unrecognizable or that the Butler has happily forgotten him in the past three years of bliss.

Dick settles on giving the butler a smile even though he knows it looks more like a wince, having been quite some time since he’s made his face move like that.

“Hey Alfie” his voice is hoarse but the words get across.

The old mans eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up and drawing lines across his face. The wrinkles seem to be a lot more than Dick remembers.

“Master Dick?” The man says as if staring in the face of a ghost, he isn’t wrong.

Dick nods but something wet on his lip steals his attention. Reaching up reveals blood on his fingers, his nose is bleeding.

“That can’t be good.” He murmurs. Alfred says something but all he knows is he’s falling into the arms of home as his world tunnels to black.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THREE YEARS AGO

Dick feels it in the air that something is wrong. The way his hair sticks up on his neck and how his fingers automatically twitch for his gun. 

He just finished an uneventful night of patrolling the streets of Gotham as the well feared Officer Grayson, rookie of the Gotham PD. The most exciting thing to had happened was giving a speeding motorcyclist a ticket and booting an illegally parked car. Bruce would not be amused. 

To say he was looking forward to finally getting the shift over and switching to free falling from the sky and kicking a few thugs faces in would be the understatement of the week. 

But by the feeling in his gut, a fight is going to happen a lot sooner than he would like. 

He breathes in, putting his key through the lock and pulling his gun out of his holster feeling more at ease with the familiar weight in his hand. Once again, Bruce would not be amused. He opens the door slowly and silently only for his heart to stop. 

Inside his apartment, his home, his safe haven, are about five men with guns. The delightful weapons range from shotguns to rifles, and all are trained straight at his chest. 

“Richard Grayson! How the hell are you?” A man to the side chips up. He’s tall and lanky and is wearing a dark suit. He looks like an average Joe until Dick notices the layering of tattoos on the mans neck and hands peeking out from his clothes and Dick can take a wild guess that the tattoos cover a lot more than what the eye can see. 

“I was doing just fine until now actually.” Dicks eyes get pulled over to his beloved couch currently being occupied by some bald dude. He glares at the feet the mans got on his coffee table. 

“Gents, I love the surprise visit but please, this is not the barn that I’m guessing you’re used too so, if you don’t mind...?” He motions to the bald guy with the dirty shoes. He swears he hears a growl come from the offended man who still doesn’t freaking move. 

“No need to be hostile Richard, I’m here to talk with you for a moment.” Sharp suit speaks again, clearly in charge. 

There are four guns trained on him and there is no way he’d be able to take them all on. 

The downside of living in Bludhaven is being so far from everyone else, no time to call in for back up. Dicks mind goes to the panic button in his kitchen he can reach if he distracts the men long enough. Dick lowers his gun into his holster and slowly begins moving. 

“You have the pleasure of knowing my name, but I can’t say the same in return.” 

“Ryhster Fernsby. Was my fathers name.” Dick holds back a snort and settles with a hum when the man bows. 

“Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue now does it? You guys hungry? I was gonna whip something up real quick.” He maneuvers to the kitchen and takes note of each gun moving with him. 

“Appreciate the offer but no. I have to say I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. You’re just as charming as I’ve heard.” Ryhs steps closer, moving along with the terribly one sided conversation. Dick reaches the far cupboard and pulls out some fruit loops.

“Ah Ryhs, I’m blushing.” Dick says with a half hearted smile. Moving back over to grab a spoon he’s close enough to the panic button and he jams his knuckle in lightly and feels the give letting him know the signal is being sent. 

“I have, let’s say, a proposition for you Mr. Grayson. An offer.” 

“Continue.” Dick pours the milk. Whatever happens at least a distress signal is out. 

“I guess it’s not so much of an offer because you won’t have a choice to decline, but it’s fun to give the contestants a taste of what they’re getting into.” 

“Contestants? You run a game show or something?” Dick says through a mouth of fruit loops. 

“Exactly!” The man excitedly clasps his hands together. 

“What’s the game?” Dick tries not to allow his emotion to show on his face. 

“Survival.” Thats a new one. 

“Now that is extremely vague.”

“Think of it this way, you have the opportunity to be a part of my worlds most gripping organization! You get to live life in a way that it’s meant to be lived. Moment to moment, breath by breath, living by the skin of your teeth. Its a test to see if you can make it through.” His world? 

“Still frustratingly vague.” 

“You know, you were chosen. We’ve been watching you for some time and I have to say you would be quite an excitement on the screen.” 

“Well not to offend you or anything, I’m super jazzed about the whole living moment to moment thing but I’m going to have to say no. I’m camera shy.” Dick shrugs, dropping his half eaten cereal in the sink. Ryhs face drops. 

“Like I said declining is not an option.” The man moves faster than Dick thinks is possible for someone so bean stalky, moving towards him and gripping his wrist tight. 

Dick moves immediately, pulling a knife from his counter and kicking out the mans legs from under him dropping the both of them to the ground. He quickly twists the two of them in a wrestle, poising the knife at the others neck. 

All guns are aimed at his face but they don’t shoot and that just makes Dicks determination stronger. He grips the knife tighter, releasing a trickle of blood from Rhys throat. 

“You shoot me I kill him.” Dick growls with as much of his batman voice as he dares. Rhys chuckles. 

“You know this is just making me want you more.” It’s then that Dick realizes the mans grip is still tight around his wrist as the skin there grows warmer. The room becomes brighter and the source of that light, being in the form of a wristwatch, begins to pulse an energy. 

Dick gapes in shock as his apartment fades right before his eyes. 


	2. He Got Out...Didn’t He?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick wakes up confused and thinking he never actually escaped his kidnappers.

NOW

Dick wakes up in the all to familiar lab. The beeping, the cold and the wires connected to his body are all too familiar. The dread in his stomach at the thought of being back and never actually having made it out of the three year nightmare eats at him. 

He wills away his panic knowing the heart monitor speeding up will only alert the hunters that he’s awake. His breathing all together stops when he realizes his usual restraints are nowhere to be found and he can lift his wrists freely. He can’t decide if it was a stupid mistake made by one of these yahoos or if it’s a test. Either way he’s taking his chances. 

Dick numbly detaches the wires and needles from his body but his hand freezes over the oxygen mask placed on his face. This is the easiest he’s breathed in what feels like ages but the machine connected to it, feeding him the blessed air, is too large and bulky it would only prevent his escape. 

Dick takes one last deep inhale that aches his whole chest then pulls off the mask too. 

Sliding off the bed almost results in Dick greeting the ground with his face but he holds on tight to the bed as the dizzy spell passes. He scans the room for a weapon and his heart leaps when his eyes land on a large scalpel on the nearby table. This is definitely another test or trial, whatever the hunters call these stupid things. 

He almost stumbles straight into the table on his unsteady legs but catches himself last moment. The familiar feeling of a weapon in his palm helps the shaking to stop and gives him the energy to keep going forward. 

His blood rushes as voices suddenly echo in the room next to his and Dick knows if he were still connected to the heart monitor it would be going wild. 

His eyes dart around the room to land on a dark corner and his body moves on it’s own, grabbing a heavy metal tray from the table and gripping the scalpel tight. He trys to breathe as silently as he can. 

Two men enter the room and the sight of the empty bed throws them both in a panic. They’re yelling for Dick, they’re angry, searching....they’re going to hurt him again. 

The smaller one is closer to Dicks hiding spot, if he can just take him down Dick can then focus completely on the larger one for any hopes of getting out of here. 

He takes one last breath and steels himself for the chaos that is about to take place. 

The smaller one turns and his eyes lock with Dicks. It’s only a fraction of a second before the metal tray is flying out of Dicks hand and through the air, knocking the hunter straight in the temple and dropping him like a stone. 

The large man is moving quick but Dicks adrenaline is quicker. He lunges forward releasing a deep yell and moves straight for the mans thigh, cutting hard and deep making him release a grunt. The hunter grabs for Dick but the boy rolls from his grasp. 

Suddenly the cold walls and blinding lights melt to the deserted rubble he spent years in, the hunters’ faces morph into the snarls of the Sics and Dick feels his heart stutter. 

No, he got out...he got out! 

The Sic looks at him, bearing it’s teeth and Dick knows it will kill him. The only thing that matters right now is survival. 

Its hoarse growl shoots tremors through Dicks body and the only thought running through his mind is there is no way he’s going to die here, he can’t. 

He leaps at the big one, aiming his dagger straight for the throat but a word reaches him through the fog. 

“Dick!”

His blood runs cold. Sics have never spoken words before much less his name. It knows his name. 

It’s a life costing mistake, letting the Sic throw him off like that. The dagger should have killed it, stabbed straight through it’s throat but instead the cut created is too small to do any real damage. He moves to stab feverishly again and again but this Sic is fast and blocks his blows easily. It keeps speaking but Dick drowns out it’s voice with the ringing in his own ears. 

The smaller one is up again and grabs him from behind, prying the dagger from Dicks worn hand. It’s bigger than Dick and in this position easily overpowers him. Dick screams thrashing about to release the grip but it’s too strong. He bites the arm closer to his face squeezing his jaw, feeling that it surprises the Sic who’s grip loosens as it cries out. 

He knows it’s his window to escape and moves to take it when suddenly a painful prick is jabbed in his arm. 

He gets released, falling to his hands and knees. He wants to take the moment to run, to fight, but suddenly the world twirls. The rubble fades to reveal the lab again, the Sics turn back to people leaving Dick confused as a dizzy feeling washes over him.

He stumbles forward but can’t tell if he’s actually touching the floor or if he really is floating, what’s up and what’s down doesn’t make sense anymore. A steady hand catches him as the world around him keeps changing. It’s always changing. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The moment the distress signal came from Dicks apartment Bruce felt a wave of dread wash over him. He knew in his gut something had gone terribly wrong. 

Since that time it has been three years of searching. Three years of sleepless nights and running, franticly searching for his son. No matter what he did, how many stones he turned, thugs he beat up or how long Bruce remained under the cowl, Dick Grayson remained missing. 

He looks down at the boy laying in the med bay bed. Dick is restless, even in his sleep. His worn limbs tug at the restraints pulled tight against his skin and discomfort is clear on his face. Even though Bruce hates to see his boy tied down, they decided it would be best for everyone if the bonds were pulled tight across the teenagers body. 

Bruce thumbs at the small bandage at his throat and looks to the bruise already forming on Tims forehead. The metal tray Dick threw at him really did a number, not to mention that Bruce let his guard down to let Dick stab him not once, but twice. But, it’s Dick. 

The ferocity the boy fought with was something Bruce has never seen in him before, not even when he was faced with Joker or even Scarecrow. It was unsettling. His usual cool, collected and cheerful partner took the form of something entirely different. It was...eerie. 

The boy is too small, too sickly and most alarming, far too young. It nearly made Bruces heart stop when Alfred notified him of the return of their deeply missed bird but it was a bigger shock to see his supposed to be 26 year old ward in the body of his younger self. And to be terribly broken. 

Dicks body is littered with cuts and scars, burns and bruises, more than the older man has ever seen on the young vigilante. The sunken cheeks and protruding bones attest that Dick hasn’t had a solid meal in quite some time and the dark circles under his eyes testify of most likely many sleepless nights. 

Bruce has so many questions, it’s only the mangled sight of his son that refrains him from shaking him awake demanding answers. The tattoo on Dicks left wrist for one down to the ankle monitor rubbing his skin raw at his leg. They still haven’t been able to take the wretched thing off with the metal being something none of them have seen created on this world and it being incredibly and stubbornly unbreakable. 

Of course the thing plaguing Bruce the most is the state of Dicks mind. When he first came to the manor Alfred had said Dick clearly knew the butler and knew where he was. Alfred stated the boys eyes were the usual clear blue they all are so fond of instead of the clouded rage filled glare that attacked them just an hour ago. 

Bruce refrains from asking himself this question, but it’s the only thing repeating itself over and over again in his mind. What the hell happened to his son?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your support so far! Sorry it’s taken me ages to post an update! Let me know what you think! I love feedback!


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